


A Bountiful Kingdom

by possessed-bylight (free_pirate)



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, PWP, Throne Sex, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/free_pirate/pseuds/possessed-bylight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin finds himself at the mercy of his devious nephews.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bountiful Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adariall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adariall/gifts).



> This is my Hobbit Holiday Exchange fic for archae_ology! I hope you enjoy it, hon.

With the kingdom newly reclaimed, trade negotiations settled with little to no bloodshed and the mountain fairly bustling with life again, Thorin thought that his worries would have momentarily subsided. But such is not the case; the restoration and rebuilding of the mountain is a large, looming task, and paired with reasserting his right to rule over a people that are mostly scattered to the four winds, most of his nights go sleepless.

When these moods strike him, there are only two things that settle Thorin’s nerves, remakes them from frayed remains and binds them together to face another day. One of these is walking, only discovered after smoking no longer made him anything but jittery. The second was visiting places around the city that gave him cause to continue, reminders of what he had fought so long to reclaim and must now fight to keep.

The treasury is one of the best places for this, piles of gold and jewels reaching to the cavernous ceiling, the vast wealth of his people that, though diminished by the recent trade negotiations, is still bountiful. But he stops himself from going there too often on his nighttime wanderings. Every time he enters the room, the glitter of the gold shining off the malachite of the walls, there is a sharp pull at his lungs, tugging him further in. This is accompanied by a lingering image he’d spent years trying to forget (and fought to remember, because it was important) – Thror, in all of his kingly glory, completely overtaken with the love of this wealth.

It would almost be wise to stay away from the treasury entirely, but he is hardly that steadfast. At the very least, it’s the sort of reminder he needs on his sleepless nights.

The only other place that soothes him is the throne room.

It is here he heads on this particular night, unable to make his mind stop reeling, to stop the thoughts of what he must do in the coming months repeating themselves over and over. He enters the room quietly, pushing open one of the large doors just enough to slip through. He intends to close it behind him, lock it perhaps, but his gaze is caught by a slight movement on the other side of the room.

Thorin pauses, eyes adjusting to the dark of the room after the brightly-lit torches of the hallway outside. But the movement is accompanied by soft sounds – half-stifled groans, the soft sounds of skin on skin, and he knows what he will see before his eyes fully adjust.

At first he is angry, suddenly filled with righteousness and fire – this is the throne of his ancestors, and it shouldn’t be defiled as such – but before he can open his mouth, give voice to any of the half-dozen admonishments just waiting to fly free, his eyes focus and what he sees startles all of the fight right out of him.

His nephews are spread on the throne – his throne – large enough that with their slight frames, Kili’s knees can fit snug and comfortably between Fili’s thighs and the hard stone of the arms. All he can see from his vantage point is Kili’s naked back, his head thrown back. Dark hair sticks to the bunched muscles of his shoulders, the sheen of sweat coating his body glinting temptingly in the low light.

He can see Fili’s broad hands stroking up his brother’s thighs, can almost hear the whispered words of praise as Fili’s hands glide up Kili’s hips, dipping down to squeeze at his ass, bearing the place where they’re joined to Thorin’s gaze.

Thorin has to exert considerable effort to make sure that his mouth isn’t hanging open, but with all the effort he puts into not looking like he is visibly affected by the sight before him, he finds himself unable to move, rooted to the spot as if he’s become part of the mountain itself.

He watches with a sickening sort of pleased feeling as Kili flexes his thighs, spearing himself again, and lets out a strangled sound as he moves the pace along, riding his brother in earnest. The sound travels back to Thorin, and though he knows that it isn’t for his ears (as much as this sight isn’t for his eyes, not at all, and he can’t bring himself to move no matter how much the rational, insistent part of his mind screams at him), he can’t help the tiny tendril of fire that works its way up his spine and knocks the breath out of him.

In a way, he has every right to make himself known. He reminds himself that this is his throne, the room where he conducts business – and is instantly stopped by the rampant thought that he will sit this very throne tomorrow, right where Fili is sitting now. Something frighteningly like arousal sparks low in his belly. It’s a dangerous thought, and with the treacherous progression of something that must be stopped before it consumes all in its wake, Thorin imagines what Kili might look like from Fili’s position. The long column of his throat shining with exertion, the muscles in his arms straining where they grasp the top ledge of the throne, stomach muscles bunching as he bears down.

Which naturally leads to imagining how Kili would feel if he were in Fili’s position; tight and hot, a forge made flesh, the way he’d squeeze and buck as Thorin drove his hips up just that small amount…

Another sound brings him back to himself, sleeping pants considerably tighter than before. It’s not a sound of passion, and for a moment Thorin is confused. When he focuses his eyes, when he can move his gaze back from Kili’s naked form, his eyes meet Fili’s.

For a moment they’re both tensed, poised to strike; there is no carefully constructed protocol for what to do here. Thorin feels as though this is the point where he should move, where he should find his way back to his rooms as quickly as possible and pretend as though this never happened, but his feet still refuse to move. And now, with his gaze so caught, he can’t look away. He watches Fili’s face flicker through a dozen different thoughts before his eyes are fluttering closed, Kili bearing down again and twisting his hips, obviously displeased with the lack of attention.

In that moment, when Fili looks up at where Kili’s hovering above him, Thorin knows he’s lost. He doesn’t say anything, but when he is finally released, when he can finally move, he moves forward instead of back, approaching instead of running.

It’s a slow approach; Kili still hasn’t noticed him, and Fili keeps his eyes riveted on Kili’s face, jaw set, refusing to acknowledge that Thorin’s even in the room. It’s insubordinate, and in any other situation the words he’d use to chastise his nephew would make themselves readily available. Instead, Kili makes another low sound and Thorin almost feels as though he understands.

The next time Fili looks at him, it’s almost a challenge; he lifts his chin slightly, tilts his head back and watches Thorin through half-lidded eyes, and for some reason the idea of being challenged in such a way makes Thorin’s blood boil with something stronger than anger.

As he gets closer to the throne, the muscles flexing in Kili’s back are easier to see, the way they move under the skin, sinuous and beautiful. Thorin wants to reach out and touch, but his gaze is riveted to Fili’s. For a moment they only stare at each other. Thorin remains blank to Fili’s defiant eyes, only watching,  and then Kili says something Thorin can’t quite hear and snaps his hips down viciously, twice, three times. Though Fili’s gaze is still locked with Thorin’s, his eyebrows knit together, eyes squeezing shut as he lets out a ragged cry.

Kili laughs, adrenaline and lust and passion, and Thorin jolts a little, steps forward jerkily. His eyes switch rapidly between Fili’s now-panting face and Kili’s lower back, muscles still bunching as he rides his brother, chasing after his own release.

When he finds it, it is on the back of one of the most pained sounds Thorin has ever heard outside of a battlefield. Kili throws his head back, entire body tensing, bucking back onto Fili and forward, into Fili’s hand. It’s a long, low sound, and in any other circumstance Thorin might believe that his youngest nephew was injured. As it is, he finds himself lurching forward again, his sleeping pants nearly unbearably tight, restraining in all of the worst possible ways. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, approaching them like this when they have so obviously sated their need in each other.

“Kili,” Fili whispers, warning threaded through his voice when he can speak again.

Thorin should say something, should announce his presence, but he only steps up close to Kili, presses one hand to the center of his back. Kili nearly falls off of his brother’s lap in surprise, but it’s only when he turns his head that he truly lets himself slide to the floor, to the foot of the throne, still between his Fili’s splayed thighs.

“Uncle,” he says, and the sound is torn nearly in half by a ragged, breathy sound. “I--- We---“

Thorin raises his hand, silences the explanations. He needs no further than what he has seen. Fili lets out a sharp breath and splays his legs even further, the evidence of their joining smeared across his hips. Any other time his nephew would be apologizing faster than he could think of a convincing apology. He would look ashamed, would try to cover up any reminder of what he’d done so as not to anger his uncle further, but apparently orgasm quells the duty in him, gives him back the ferocity and the confidence he only really has with himself in battle.

Thorin is completely captivated. He needs to explain himself, to answer the looks Kili  is shooting at him (confusion, terror, a coloring of his cheeks that spreads down his flushed chest in the most appealing way), but he finds himself unable to look away from the both of them, unable to summon enough cohesive thought to say what must be said.

Even as he opens his mouth, he can see the line he’s about to cross settling between them. There is no going back after this point, and that he’s even thinking of this makes him wonder where his reasoning has gone. But he cannot bring himself to reason when Kili is spent and vulnerable before him, when Thorin can still feel how soft his skin was on his palm, across his fingertips. It’s wrong but that almost adds to the thrill of it; suddenly he wants to know all of the secrets of Kili’s skin, just where he can press so he makes those delicious sounds again. He cannot bring himself to reason when Fili is looking at him like that, every one of Thorin’s filthy thoughts reflected tenfold in the burning of his nephew’s blue eyes.

Together, they could undo just about anyone. That is what he tells himself when he opens his mouth and finally, finally lets the words out. “I find myself wanting,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. From the looks on their faces, it is far from the last thing they expect to hear. Kili stands, legs only slightly wobbly as he stands before the throne. Fili makes no move to seat himself more regally or stand, just leans back against the stone his forefathers carved. His only response is a smirk turning up one side of his mouth and a new, dangerously mischievous glint in his eye.

Kili shuffles a half step closer, close enough that if Thorin reached out to touch… but he doesn’t, instead redirects his eyes from Kili’s naked form to where his brother is sprawled on the throne. “If I am accepted,” he says, breath coming that much quicker just at the thought. He swallows and tries again. “If I am accepted, I will expect you in my chambers tomorrow evening. If you find that you are not accepting of the idea, I will forget what I’ve seen here, and you can forget what I’ve said.” He hopes that a small amount of diplomacy found its way into his words. All that he feels is want.

There is a half-second of silence, the air around them charged with something new and not entirely unwelcome. Kili takes another half-step forward, and Fili makes a soft sound as Kili reaches out, fingertips brushing Thorin’s bearded jaw.

“Why wait?” Kili breathes, and leans in closer. “You could have us here.”

Thorin is sorely tempted, though a bit taken aback by the lack of hesitation. “No,” he says, but doesn’t step away. “Not here. Tomorrow, my chambers. If we are to do this, we will do it properly.”

Fili stands; even on the top step of the dias he is little taller than the both of them. “As you wish, Uncle.” The smile Thorin receives is devious, and for a moment he’s struck by it. He gives them a stiff nod, unwilling to stay any longer and test his own resolve. He turns and walks, straight-backed, to the still-open door.

*                                                                                                                                                                        

Thorin’s day is spent in several boring council meetings. Now that trade negotiations have been settled, a large weight has been lifted from their shoulders; now they turn their attention to different matters, no less important but infinitely duller.

As it is, Thorin’s mind is elsewhere. Even when he is listening to the accounts of the builders that have delved into the lower parts of the city, even when his opinion is asked or his decision ready to be decreed, the image of Kili’s flexing back, watching Fili disappear inside of him again and again, is branded in his mind. He spends most of the day close to squirming in his seat, half-hard and aroused to the point of madness.

He is almost grateful for the council meetings and other affairs that he must attend, however. He feels that if he stops to think of it, he will concern himself with the logistics of it; with how wrong this wanting is, how soiled he already feels at the desire creeping up on him.

Keeping himself busy is the only way to get through the day.                

As darkness descends on the mountain and the council disperses, he finds himself standing still as stone outside of the door to his chambers. He hears no sound from inside, though below the door he can see a fire burning brightly in the hearth. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and not for the first time today cursing himself for a fool to get involved in such things.

There is nothing out of the ordinary in his sitting room. The fire is roaring in the hearth, crackling in the silence. He begins removing his heavy vestments, glancing just once back towards the open archway that leads back into his apartments. Once he is comfortable, he makes his way back to his bedchamber.

As he approaches the crackling of the fire falls away and is replaced by soft lover’s sounds, shifting on sheets and wet kisses. The door to his bedchamber is cracked open, and from the hallway he can see that there is a lower fire in this room, and that its flickering glow is painting his nephews with golden light as they tangle together on his bed.

There is a jolt of something primal, possessive; Kili is spread over his furs, fingers tugging in the bunched fabrics and his brother’s head between his legs. His body is long, lean for a dwarf; he writhes, pushing himself up into his brother’s mouth, and for a moment all Thorin can do is watch, entirely captivated again.

They are so beautiful together, his nephews. They were made for each other, crafted from the same material, and watching them like this so effortlessly makes Thorin’s heart race.

He pushes the door open the rest of the way. At the sound, Kili turns to him, grin splitting his face. Fili leaves his task and looks up at him with equal enthusiasm. “Uncle!” he says, and Kili whines at the loss. Fili pats his hip and shifts, moving so he’s resting on his knees near the foot of the bed. As if on cue, Kili moves as well. He stands and pads his way over to where Thorin stands, still framed in the doorway.

As Kili saunters toward him, Thorin realizes that they’ve planned this. They are far too comfortable with the prospect to not have planned it, to not have thought about it before. He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t also imagined it, deep in his sleepless nights when he no longer held sway over his own thoughts.

But thinking about it and having it are two different things entirely. Before he knows it, Kili is standing just in front of him, completely bare and inviting. Thorin wants to touch, but for the moment he lets Kili take charge, mindful of Fili’s eyes on him from the bed.

Kili tangles one hand in Thorin’s long hair and pulls him forward. The slight sting is nothing compared to the feel of Kili’s mouth beneath his own. His nephew’s mouth is wicked, and Kili kisses him fast and breathless before he even allows Thorin inside. He makes a low groan as he snakes his tongue out to swipe over Thorin’s bottom lip, warm, wet pressure, and Thorin meets his enthusiasm with his own fervor, biting his way into Kili’s mouth. Kili gives as good as he gets, pushing back as Thorin devours him. They break apart and Kili laughs, a light, happy sound that kindles something in Thorin’s chest.

His patience has already been tested, forced to sit all day only thinking of what awaited him. Now he has none to spare, walks Kili back into the room, closer to the bed. He can feel Fili’s eyes on them, never moving from where they’re joined. Thorin can’t decide if he is playing the voyeur or the bodyguard as intently as he’s watching them. Thorin angles his head and takes Kili’s mouth again, delighting in the way Kili grins against him, tangling both his hands in Thorin’s hair and tugging.

Thorin’s own low grunt falls into Kili’s mouth. From behind them, he hears Fili moves from his perch on the end of the bed. Kili breaks off their kiss on a low moan, and Thorin opens his eyes to find Fili’s mouth latched onto his brother’s neck, sucking and biting a mark into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Thorin watches for half a second before he bows his head and goes to work on the other side of Kili’s neck, leaving his own claim. As he works, Thorin moves one hand to cradle the back of Kili’s head and finds Fili’s hand already there; instead of moving away and allowing him this intimacy, he entwines his fingers with Fili’s as best they can between strands of Kili’s hair.

They pull back at nearly the same time; he meets Fili’s eyes across the expanse of Kili’s collarbone and they come to a silent agreement. Fili continues to worry at his spot, content to stay there and move up the column of Kili’s throat. Thorin moves down, nipping at his nephew’s collarbone, dipping down to run his teeth and tongue over the peaks and valleys of his chest. Kili fists his hands in Thorin’s hair as before, pulling just as he did while they kissed, and Thorin growls as he finds a nipple, runs first his tongue and then his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

The sound Kili makes is high, breathy, and Thorin finds himself reaching down to palm himself through his pants. They haven’t even begun here, and one sound from Kili cannot have him completely undone. He hears Fili’s chuckle from Kili’s throat, working his way to another mark, and he briefly feels another hand in his hair, brushing over what Kili isn’t holding fast in his hands.

Thorin continues downward, biting at Kili’s stomach, leaving a mark on his hip. He avoids sating Kili’s need, stays away from where he most wants attention, fighting the tug of Kili’s hands. After the third push and pull like this, Thorin growls low against the top of Kili’s thigh and rests his head away. “Not yet,” he hisses.

“Get on with it,” Kili returns through gritted teeth, a small happy sigh working out of him from Fili’s latest bite.

Thorin doesn’t remember dropping to his knees but he is kneeling in front of his youngest nephew now, hands wrapped loosely around his hips as he tries in vain to get his cock near Thorin’s mouth. Thorin watches for a few long moments, watches the way Kili strains for him, for any relief. When he is satisfied with looking, he stands, begins to pull off his remaining clothing – if he drags this out like he wants to, he won’t last long enough to see it through. He’s been on edge all day.

Another time they can truly work each other over; for now, Thorin knows what he wants.

Fili’s hands come up to still his own as they work at his shirt. He takes over, making quick work of laces and ties – when he has them undone, Kili moves to push Thorin’s shirt up, fingers skimming reverently over every new inch of exposed skin.

It’s not like they haven’t seen him bare before – there was the journey, and living together before. As close as they were, there was no way not to see each other in various stages of undress. But never like this, not entirely, where they were free to touch and do as they wished and never when he was heavy with arousal, skin flushed with want.

Kili continues tracing the path of his undress upwards, while Fili drops his hands between Thorin and his brother, working deftly at the ties on Thorin’s pants. He doesn’t slide them down when he gets them open, only presses his palm flat to the trail of hair leading below the waistband. Kili is kissing him again while Fili slides his hand lower, lower, fingers combing through coarse hair, almost a tease. There must have been a moment when the balance of power in this situation shifted, but Thorin doesn’t know how he ended up at the mercy of his fiendish nephews.

And then Fili’s clever fingers grasp him, already hard and leaking into his thin pants. Fili lets out a low groan, half a laugh, and buries his face in Kili’s neck again, this time on the side Thorin marked, tracing his tongue over the bruise. Thorin can feel Kili trying to arch into Fili’s wrist; he reaches down, closes his hands around the curve of Kili’s hips, holding him still.

“Please,” Kili grits out, almost like he doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to be reduced to begging when he’s hardly been touched yet. Thorin has a pretty good idea what they’ve been up to recently, rolling around on his bed. There’s no telling how much Fili teased him before Thorin found them.

“No,” he says, and feels Kili shudder against him. “The bed.”

Fili steps back to wait; while Thorin is divesting himself of his pants and seating himself in the center of the bed, Kili turns to his brother, whispering all sorts of promises into his ear, pleaded just to be touched. Fili doesn’t listen for long before choosing to indulge his brother. Thorin watches them as he did the night before, watches the way Fili lets his blunt nails scrape up Kili’s side to make him shudder, just the barest of pressure on his cock with his other hand, barely even stroking, but Kili fairly melts against him, clutching at his forearm.

“How long were you playing before I arrived?” Thorin asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

Fili shoots him a cheeky grin. “Long enough to get him like this.” and then he takes a deep breath, clearly basking in the sounds that Kili’s muffling against his chest. “How do you want us?”

Thorin leans back on his pillows, watching them and considering. He leisurely strokes himself as he watches, and finally gestures for them to come forward. “Kili,” he says, almost sharp, and Kili looks up from where he’s buried his face in Fili’s shoulder. “Here.”

“Yes, sir,” he breathes out. Thorin feels the words jolt through him like lightning. They must be able to see how it affects him, because when he opens his eyes again (he’d hardly noticed them fluttering closed), he’s met with a grin that does not bode well for him.

Kili doesn’t wait for instruction, just crawls up the bed, dragging his body against Thorin as he settles atop him. His eyes are liquid heat, that small glint that always meant something was about to go terribly, terribly wrong for anyone who wasn’t him. In a slightly different context, that look has Thorin nearly bucking into the solid weight of Kili’s body, but he stops himself, stills them both with a restraining hand.

“What do you want?” He asks Kili, even as his youngest nephew attempts to devour him with kisses, nipping his way down his neck as he rubs himself against any bit of Thorin he can reach.

“Like this,” Kili says, voice rough. “Just like this.”

Fili climbs onto the bed behind Kili, who has arranged his legs on either side of Thorin’s. Fili gently parts Thorin’s thighs, pushing his brother’s legs wide on either side. He settles in the space he’s made, pressed tight against his brother and nudging close to Thorin.

He lets his hands wander for a moment, over Thorin’s thighs, up Kili’s back and around to brush against Thorin’s chest. There’s a slow moment of closeness, just the three of them, before Thorin hears the soft sound of the vial being uncorked, and moments later the cold slide of liquid over his sack. He hisses, feeling the way Kili shudders against him, the motion creating enough friction between them to have him pressing his fingertips harder into Kili’s hips. There will be bruises, and when Fili next fucks his brother he’ll be able to fit his hands into the same patterns.

Fili makes that chuckling sound again, and instead of tending his brother, rubs at the oil that’s slid down onto Thorin, massaging his sack to spread it, warm it up. Thorin’s groan reverberates in his chest, and he arches into Kili, biting down on his own lip to keep more undignified sounds from slipping through. Kili leans up and captures the abused lip between his own teeth, worrying it gently with his tongue. He eats up all those little sounds that Thorin doesn’t want to admit to making, and before long Fili moves on to him.

From his vantage point he can’t see what Fili’s doing, but by the way Kili shudders and keens Thorin can guess. Kili arches, pressing forward into Thorin and back onto his brother’s fingers, panting open-mouthed into Thorin’s throat.

“You two—uh, you two are going to kill me,” he mutters when he gets the breath to. And then Fili makes a sharp twist with his wrist and Kili has no more air for words. His fingers twist in the furs beneath Thorin and he can’t even let out a sound, just another harsh pant before Fili releases him, urges him up onto his knees.

Fili reaches between them, the small space he’s made available, and drips more oil over Thorin’s cock, rubbing it down his length with half a dozen strokes that leave Thorin nearly as destroyed as Kili. There is a half-second of still silence, broken only by Kili’s panting, the shift in the mattress as Fili shifts between both of their legs, and then Fili is guiding Kili down onto Thorin, one hand grasping Thorin’s cock and the other resting low on Kili’s back, gently urging him on.

It takes every ounce of self-control to hold still as Kili sinks down onto him. He is just as hot and tight as Thorin imagined he would be as he was watching them last night. It’s just as hard to restrain himself; he doesn’t want to hurt Kili, but with every small shift he only wants to thrust up with all of his strength, finally be completely surrounded.

Kili’s sounds aren’t helping; the low, choked-off moan as Fili presses him down at first, taking just the head inside. Thorin watches, seconds from squeezing his own eyes closed, as Kili’s brows knit together, concentration and the slight flicker of pain even though he should be slick and open. He mutters something in Khuzdul, too low for Thorin to hear, and before Thorin can brace himself Kili has shaken off Fili’s grip and shoves his hips down with all the force he can muster.

Thorin feels the sound ripped from him before he has the chance to call it back. It merges with the sound Kili makes, a loud, high keen. When Thorin opens his eyes, looks down at the both of him, he finds Fili’s hands roving his brother’s body, the callouses on his palms scraping over the hair on Kili’s chest, the stubble at his throat. Thorin raises his own hands, runs them up Kili’s thighs, gripping there as Kili begins to move, urged by Fili’s hands on his body.

Kili sets the pace, and Thorin can’t change it, can’t speed it up no matter how much he tries. His fingers dig bruises into Kili’s thighs, pressing as he tries to get leverage, but Fili ensures that he has none. He feels Fili’s hands on him, running up his body as well as his brothers, and then Fili’s hands brushing his own, gripping Kili’s hips, moving with him.

Thorin squeezes his eyes closed and throws his head back, gasping for air – watching them together is too much, too fast when Kili is moving on his cock, squeezing delightfully around him, and Fili is behind him grinding out his own pleasure anywhere he can reach it, silently commanding both of them.

He can feel the moment when Fili reaches around to stroke Kili’s cock without having to have his eyes open, without even hearing the tortured sounds Kili makes. He feels it in the vice around him, in the way Kili rocks in a slightly different way, in the way he can’t keep his own hips from bucking up into his nephew’s heat.

Fili’s laugh is darker, lower. “That’s more like it,” he growls out, and Thorin feels him pressing closer to the place where he disappears inside Kili. He feels Fili’s fingers at the place where they’re joined, massaging at the stretch of Kili’s ass and down over Thorin’s cock. The added sensation has them both groaning, Kili’s fingernails digging into Thorin’s chest as he fights to keep himself upright, fights to hold onto his release.

Thorin feels the heat pooling in his spine, the desperation that has him shifting his hips up harder, rocking Kili down with more force that before, bouncing him on his cock. He feels the tendrils of it working up his spine, feels himself coming undone. He reaches between them, fumbles for Kili’s cock and finds Fili’s fingers already there, stroking hard in time with Thorin’s thrusts. Thorin joins his hand, and they move in an uncoordinated jumble of pressure.

It almost sneaks up with him, so focused is he on the way his fingers and Fili’s are fighting for contact. When his orgasm hits, he wretches his hand away, tearing at the furs and blankets across his bed, one hand digging bruises and blunt nails into Kili’s thigh while the other dishevels what is left of the bedcovers. Kili lets out what might be a howl and grinds down, the edges of his grin sharp and almost wild.

Fili’s movements don’t cease, and the fingers squeezing around the base of Kili’s cock keep him from finding his release. Thorin can only lay there panting as he softens, as Fili shifts Kili back and off of him, all the while whispering words of praise into the skin of Kili’s neck, pressing tight against him as he lines himself up and presses in. Kili’s sigh is loud, ragged, and before long he’s moving again, grinding back against Fili as he’s filled again.

“Please,” he grinds out as he moves. It becomes a mantra, repeated over and over again – Kili’s held out so long and he’s been so good, begging for it. Without warning, Fili loosens his hand and buries his face in Kili’s back, pressing kisses to the knobs of his spine.

Kili shudders one final time, going almost still. His knees are still spread, bracketing Thorin’s thighs, and Thorin can feel the way they tighten, the way his entire body strains and snaps taut as he finally, finally comes. Fili works him through it, long, powerful thrusts and a hand working his cock until it’s covered with thick white, the air full of loud, almost pained sounds as Kili finally gets what he’s been asking for.

Thorin finally moves, raises one hand to rub over Kili’s shuddering back. He shushes him gently even as Fili pulls out of him, stripping his own cock with the hand covered in Kili’s seed. He comes in long, thick ropes over Kili’s back, one hand still clutching Kili’s hip as he bites off any sound he makes before they have a chance to hear it.

After, when they’ve cleaned up what they can with only a damp cloth, they lay where they fell; Kili is curled into Thorin’s side and Fili is curled behind his brother, one hand reaching across him to rest lightly on Thorin’s stomach. Thorin very carefully doesn’t think about what this is, doesn’t think about the next time or if there even will be a next time. For the first time in a while, he falls asleep at a reasonable time and doesn’t wake all through the night.


End file.
